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On the eve of battle
The first steps of the Red Path saw a long, unknown journey spread out at my feet. Endless potential, danger and possibility, a vision of Kahless my only guide. A vision of Kahless. I was naïve to believe in such stories. Who knows what other’s see when they claim such a feat – delusions bought on my starvation and ''hor’tagg ''smoke. I can’t believe I was the only one to wonder how a living man could still inspire prophetic visions in the faithful – that seems like a spirit’s trick. From Sto ‘Vo’Kor you hear his call… a vision from beyond the grave, and a hail from the Imperial Palace, rendered to the same weight, and no Klingon batted an eye. We really have grown complacent. Blind. I had visions of a man… more than a man, a legend. A Hero, by any definition found throughout the galaxy. The words of a spirit, those are words from the afterlife. Words to listen to, words that light a fire within you. Words that set your feet upon a path. But they were no true visions. They were memories. Copied memories, built into the mind of the man I am built to be. I am Azaram, but I am a copy of Kahless. I had no vision from the afterlife – I had visions of history. I remembered. The memories of a man, grown in a tube. Korath would tell me that Kahless fortold his return, and thus inspired my genesis. That by prophesizing, he lit a fire in the hearts of his people, and that the faithful found a way to see it through. An artificial messiah, and they tried it twice. Once wasn’t enough. No, they divine inspired them… and when that miracle failed them, they simply tried it again. I may have the blood of Kahless… but I am not the man. I am… unnamed. The man the Empire calls Kahless is not even himself. He is Morath, brother to Kahless… the true Hero, the righteous man... but he is not the father of the Empire. The Emperor is a clone of Morath, and a bad one; whether or not the mistake was realized at the time shall soon be told. Revealing the deception… letting the people know his true nature… Morath was the hero, after all. I could reveal the truth of the man, and at once undercut the legend of false Kahless, and cement the power of the Clone. Brother Clone, I should say. More a brother then Khaegor – The Emperor Morath and the Renegade Kahless… my, how our paths have reversed, from all those years ago… Without telling the people the truth of Morath and his brother, they would throw him down. Morath the Deceiver, Morath the Oathbreaker. I could denounce him, have him cast out… and take his place. In revealing the truth, I could step into the light. I could assume the mantel of destiny, and become the man that so many have dreamed of. Noble Kahless, Righteous Kahless… I could reshape the Empire to my vision. It would be easy. The Red Path would burn in the heart of every man, woman and child. An Empire of the faithful, their eyes watching one man, hanging on his words. I would be a true Emperor, and good, they would sing my praises… and never think for themselves again. And when I die, will my legacy live on? Will something be built that transends time… or will my people merely collapse in on themselves, becoming blood thirsty yet again. There is a human place. They called it Camelot. It was a myth… a story… but a glorious story. A dream of noble deeds, and righteous men, that formed something bigger then itself. I suppose they also called it Starfleet. The question of Khaegor is an easy one. He was false. He is a father killer. He is a warmonger, a deceiver, and would see the cosmos bleed. I once called him brother. When he is dead, I will remember his bravery. When he is a dead. But the Emperor. Does he know the truth? Does he know of the deeds of true Morath? Do they light a fire in him? He is like me… a wooden boy… and deserves better then to be a pawn in evil men’s games. Once I have brought him low… he could officially step down. He could publically denounce himself – and place the Empire in the hands of the true Chancellor Martok. Or in my own, as leader of House Korath. He could step down… and disappear. He would have to have his memory erased, and be given a new face. But he could once again have honor. He could do great things, and I would call him brother. Or he could refuse. I would take his head. It would be regicide, and I would be killed… I would have to reveal myself. I would have no choice but to call myself by blood – Kahless – and take the thrown. From there, reformation would be easy…. But what of Camelot? What of the Red Path?